I'll Catch You on Your Way Down
by NCCJFAN
Summary: This time Woody runs...how will Jordan cope? Please read and review....
1. Default Chapter

DISCLAIMER: None of the characters from Crossing Jordan are mine...they just use my brain as a playroom.  
  
Son of a bitch.  
  
That's the only phrase that she could muster through her mind as she gripped the bed sheets tightly around her body. "Where are you going?" she asked the figure, sitting at the end of her bed, the figure who was calmly putting on his pants and shoes like nothing had just happened.  
  
She watched as he slowly rose and straightened his shoulders. Without turning to look at her, he replied, "I'm leaving." Raking his fingers through his hair, he continued, "And I don't mean I'm leaving to go to work. I'm leaving. For good. From Boston."  
  
Jordan was having a hard time absorbing the new information. "Why?" she whispered. "I thought, um, after last night...I mean...." Her voice trailed off. She couldn't trust it to go much further. It kept catching in the back of her throat.  
  
Abruptly, he turned and looked straight at her. His blue eyes were burning cold, staring a hole straight through her, as if he was examining and weighing her very soul. "No, Jordan. Not this time. And not ever again. I'm tired of chasing you. I'm tired of wondering if you want to be caught. Hell, I'm to the point of wondering if it's all been worth it...trying to find your mother's killer, trying to break through the emotional walls you've put up around yourself, trying to get you to trust me. I'm not a complicated man. I know what I want in a relationship. I know what I wanted for us. And I'm not going to get that from you. So I'm leaving."  
  
"You're going back to Wisconsin?"  
  
Woody sighed. "No. I'm not going home." He was heading for the door of her apartment and Jordan's legs were having a hard time catching up with him, tripping over the sheet she still had tightly clutched to her body.  
  
"Where..." she began.  
  
Woody turned again and raked his eyes over her, from head to toe. She was tiny, oh so petite. That was one of the first things that attracted him to her. She always looked fragile. That chestnut hair and big brown eyes. The small hands. She looked like she needed someone to protect her. And for the longest time, he thought he was that man. And he did. From killers and lunatics and DAs. The only person he could not protect Jordan from was herself. And he had worn himself out from trying. He knew if he didn't get away, it would eat him alive. So he was pulling trick from Jordan's hat. This time Woody was doing the running.  
  
"I don't know," he answered softly, his eyes finally meeting hers. "I'll let you know when I get there."  
  
"Will ... you ... be back?" she asked. He could see the confusion welling up in her eyes.  
  
"No." And with that, he was gone. No good-byes, no lingering kiss, no "See you later, last night was great, Sweetheart." He just stepped out into the hall and slammed the door. Jordan could hear his footsteps quickly retreating to the elevators.  
  
The plane leveled and the seatbelt light switched off. Woody leaned back and closed his eyes. He hated flying. Well, no, he grimaced to himself. It wasn't the flying, it was the possibility of crashing and burning he had a hard time dealing with.  
  
And if that thought wasn't enough, he was having a hard time dealing with what he had done last night. Several times last night, if you were keeping count.  
  
It started out with a typical evening at The Pogue. Jordan was barmaid and everyone was there...Nigel, Bug, Lily, the whole crew. It started out as a fun evening, until almost closing time and Jordan asked him to dance. She often did. He went willingly. Dancing with her was slow torture. Feeling her in his arms, only to have her pull away at the end of the song. He hoped she wouldn't pick a slow song, but his luck wasn't running with him that night. It was a slow song. She wrapped his arms around her waist and looped her arms around his neck. She moved closer to him than in the past. "Does she know?" he had wondered, briefly entertaining the thought that somehow Nigel had found out through his computer wizardry that Woody was throwing in the towel and leaving. "Is she trying to get me to stay?"  
  
At the end of the song, she didn't move away. She snuggled closer and asked him to come back to her apartment with her for a nightcap, please? He had been torn. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't resist those eyes. Reluctantly he had agreed. "No games, Jordan," he had warned, half- expecting her to get him in her apartment and start discussing new leads on her mother, or James, or where her father was.  
  
She had simply looked into his eyes and smiled. "Girl Scouts honor," she had pledged.  
  
It got real blurry after that. The apartment. The kiss that had led to another and another and another....the smell of her perfume...the feel of her hands on his chest as she had slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He had tried to stop her, knowing that she and he both would have serious regrets in the morning. But when Jordan had a goal in mind, heaven and hell couldn't stop her. And that night her goal was getting him in her bed, for whatever reason she had in her mind. "Give up, Farm Boy," she had teased, leading him to her bed in the alcove. And he did. He gave up. Totally surrendered to the months of sexual frustration and tension that had been building. Why shouldn't he? It would be his last chance to hold her, feel her against him, smell her, run his fingers through her hair. He would at least have the memory, if he didn't have the girl. So he gave her back kiss for kiss and touch for touch until the passion rose to the point she moaned against his mouth. Without a second thought, he tumbled her down on her bed and anchored her there with his hips as he proceeded to finish unbuttoning and discarding her blouse. With deft fingers, he had slid his hand to her back and unhooked her bra. "Are you sure, Jordan?" he had asked, softly whispering the question against her lips. She had nodded and lifted her arms, allowing him to discard the scrap of lace.  
  
He had taken his own sweet time, tracing her body with his fingertips, committing to memory every indentation, the spots where she was ticklish, the spots where she would catch her breath and moan softly. He wanted to remember them all. For all he knew, that would be all he had for the years to come. He had slowly slid down her body and unfastened her jeans and pulled them off, along with that other scrap of lace that served as her underwear. She had fumbled with his belt and pants...  
  
He had heard stories of earth-shattering sex. Explosive, knock-your-socks- off, lovemaking, but had doubted them all until last night. He could still see her face. He had committed that to memory, too. The catch in her voice as she came. The way she clung to him as they both climaxed. He had been amazed that she was trembling. "Hold me," she had asked.  
  
"I'll catch you on your way down," he replied, holding her close as she floated back down to earth, taking him with her.  
  
"Excuse me, sir," are you okay?" asked the air hostess. "You look a little peaked. Are you air sick?"  
  
Woody almost laughed in the young woman's face. "No, I'm fine," he replied...Okay, maybe he lied. He wasn't "fine." He wasn't. But he would be one day, maybe. As soon as he could get the vision of those warm brown eyes filling with tears out of his mind.


	2. Carolina on my Mind

Jordan had fought the urge to follow Woody out to the elevators, despite the sheet and her bare feet. Instead, she slowly walked back to her bed and buried her face in the pillow and sheets where he had been, trying hard to imprint his smell in her brain.  
  
He was gone. Really, truly gone. Her heart felt like lead. She had pushed him away too many times and he had finally had enough. He left. She tried to tell herself that he would be back, that he would be gone a few days and then come to his senses and return to her, but then she would remember his eyes. They had been cold. Ruthless, even. The light in them that would twinkle so warmly at her in the past was gone.  
  
Fighting the urge to break down and cry, Jordan walked into the bathroom, thinking a shower would help her clear her head and make sense of the whole situation. Instead she ended up throwing up for the next twenty minutes. Climbing under a cold shower spray, she finally broke down and cried herself out. She now was alone...completely alone. No Mom, no Dad, no Woody. Just herself.  
  
A gentle hand shook Woody awake. "I'm sorry to waken you," the air hostess said, "but we're getting ready to land and you need to put on your seatbelt."  
  
Bleary-eyed, Woody peered out the window. He could make out green, rolling landscape and burning blue sky. He buckled his seatbelt and waited. Before long he was making his way off the plane into the terminal. His eyes were having trouble adjusting to the bright sunlight. He nearly ran into the sign on the concourse that said "Welcome to North Carolina."  
  
He collected the few bags he had with him and begin looking for a familiar face. Finally, he caught sight of a huge cowboy hat on top of an equally huge man. "Over here, Woody," he called.  
  
"Jake, how are you doing you old son-of-a-gun," Woody said, putting down one of his bags and shaking hands with the man. Jake tipped his hat back and looked at Woody from top to bottom.  
  
"Not bad, Woodrow, but you look a little worse for the wear. Whatsa matter, Boston not agree with you?"  
  
"You might say that," Woody replied, carefully avoiding Jake's eyes. Jake was far too perceptive, and Woody needed some time before he told Jake everything. He knew the time would come. Jake would bulldog it out of him, word by word, syllable by syllable, but Woody wasn't ready yet. He didn't know when he would be – weeks, years, who knew?  
  
Jake eyed Woody one more time. "Get your gear and let's get into the truck. Linda's been cooking since noon and she can't wait to set her eyes on you again. It's been too long WoodROW," Jake said, emphasizing the row part of Woodrow. "Let's get you home and get you settled."  
  
Woody filled in Jake about leaving Boston on the way back to the farm, carefully avoiding any mention of Jordan. He blamed his abrupt departure on burn out.  
  
"So you hanging up your badge?" Jake asked.  
  
"For now," Woody said, inwardly sighing. Putting his law enforcement career behind him was one of the hardest things he had ever done. But he knew he had to do it for two reasons. First, he had to get away from Jordan and anything that reminded him of her. Second, as long as he was in "the system," Jordan could have Nigel perform his computer voodoo and find him, if she wanted to. And Woody didn't know how long he could resist her, if she decided she wanted him back. So as much as he hated to do it, he turned in his badge for good, for at least the next several years.  
  
"I dunno," Jake said, sounding doubtful. "My daddy always said, 'Once a lawman, always a lawman, badge or not'. But what the hey, we can let you play farmer until she's out of your system."  
  
Woody's jaw dropped. "Who said anything about 'she'?"  
  
Jake laughed. "You don't have to say a word. It's always a woman behind decisions like this. She must be one hell of a girl to make you run scared. When you're ready to talk, let me know. I'll listen, no questions asked."  
  
"Thanks," Woody mumbled, turning his attention to the landscape whizzing by his window.  
  
Jake turned the old truck down a gravel road. Fences ran down both sides and on one side Woody could see corn fields and on the other a half a dozen horses grazed. Jake made a left into a winding driveway that ended in front of a two-story white farmhouse with a front porch that stretched the entire length. A young woman was at the door, waving to him.  
  
"Welcome home, Woody," Jake said. "At least, until you clear your head and figure yourself out, this is your home." 


	3. The new and improved Jordan

Three years later  
  
Jordan straightened up from the autopsy table, stretching her back as she did. She lifted her face shield and turned to Bug. "Definite suicide, don't you agree?" she asked.  
  
"Sure. That's apparent. What's not so apparent is the time of death. Liver temp says one thing, but the bruising and insect activity tell another story," Bug said, glancing over at Jordan.  
  
"Hmmmm," Jordan mumbled. "That I will leave to you to figure out. Sorry, Bug, but even after all these years, I still have no interest in maggots or blow flies, or whatever else may be crawling around in there." Jordan looked over at her autopsy partner and smiled.  
  
Bug grinned back. He wished Jordan would smile more often. It seemed she smiled, or laughed for that matter, less and less these days. When confronted about it, Jordan would push the fact away with the statement, "Well, everybody has to grow up sometime, I guess today is my day." But Bug, as well as Nigel and Garrett knew, that it wasn't just the matter of Jordan suddenly deciding to mature. Jordan was simply trying to survive another day, put one foot in front of the other from the time she awoke in the morning until those footsteps took her home at night and she collapsed into sleep. Then the next day she would get up and do it again. They all worried about how long she could keep doing it before she broke completely down.  
  
"I'm going to Nigel's office to see if he can tell me anything about the ballistics," Jordan said, stripping off her gloves and shedding her scrubs in the locker room. A few minutes later she was sitting in Nigel Townsend's office, munching on his leftover potato chips from lunch.  
  
"What'd you find out Nige?" she asked, wiping her greasy fingers on a napkin and looking for something to drink.  
  
"What's the matter love, no lunch again today?"  
  
"No time. The dead and the DA won't wait on anyone to have lunch anymore," she replied, twisting the lid off a bottle of water.  
  
"That's the third time this week you skipped lunch, Jordan," Nigel replied, trying to be stern with his friend, but failing completely. "You're going to make yourself sick."  
  
"Nah, not me," Jordan replied, "I'm too mean to get sick." She tipped the water back and drank quickly.  
  
"It's a good thing that's not alcohol," Nigel said.  
  
Jordan winked at him. "Come on, what's the ballistics tell you?"  
  
"It came from the gun the vic was holding. No questions about it," Nigel replied.  
  
"Well, at least that's one pretty much open and shut case," Jordan replied, hopping down from Nigel's desk. "If Bug can determine the time of death, it's wrapped."  
  
Nigel looked at his friend closely. He and Jordan had always been close, although not in the way many people assumed. They had shared lunch, dinner, drinks, confidences, but never a bed. They were best friends. He was the first one she turned to after Woody left and for many days he was the only other person that knew the detective was gone from her life. After a few weeks absence, people began to ask questions, but Jordan gave no answers. Instead, she pulled inside herself, not talking to many people other than himself and Garrett. The fun-loving Jordan he once knew slowly disappeared and a new Jordan emerged -- a workaholic, mature, solemn Jordan that looked at the world through sad, brown eyes. And while folks like Rene Walcott, and somewhat even Garrett, welcomed the "new and improved" Jordan, Nigel did not. He knew she was slowly being eaten away at from the inside out. And one day, if something didn't happen, she would implode on herself.  
  
It had been Nigel that had listened to her pour out her anger and bitterness at Woody for running out on her. It had been Nigel that helplessly watched her grieve over that loss. He had held her hand and hugged her tight when it became glaringly apparent that Woody was not coming back. And it had been Nigel that had consoled her when the pregnancy test came back negative, destroying any hope of any link she may have had with the young detective.  
  
And it had been Nigel that tried to track Woody down. Not because Jordan had asked him to, but because he had to have some answers. He found out the detective had submitted his resignation to his superior officer three weeks before leaving. Woody had made his supervisor swear to keep it a secret. Out of professional courtesy, the commanding officer did. In fact, no one that worked with Woody even knew he was leaving. He had slowly cleaned out his office in a manner that no one noticed, gave his landlord a month's notice and an extra month's rent to keep it secret and either gave away or sold most of his belongings, other than his clothes and a few other things. He had hopped a flight from Boston to Philadelphia, Philadelphia to North Carolina. Then the trail ended. As far as Nigel could tell, Woody was no longer in law enforcement. Woody had cancelled his cell phone, too. Save one call from it to Jordan's phone the day after he left, Woody, for all intents and purposes, and disappeared.  
  
"Don't you think so?" Jordan asked, startling Nigel out of his train of thought.  
  
"Oh, yeah, sure," Nigel said. Walking around to her, Nigel took her hand. "Look, love, what's say you and I go get some dinner in a bit. Then I can take you home, tuck you in, and make sure you get a good night's sleep. Or maybe not sleep," Nigel teased, wagging his eyebrows at her.  
  
Jordan smirked at Nigel's attempt to seduce her. "No can do, big boy," she said. "I gotta finish up here and head down to The Pogue."  
  
"You're working again tonight?"  
  
"Yeah, no rest for the weary or the wicked." She made a lame attempt at humor as she left Nigel's office, not noticing the worried looked on his face. 


	4. Max is back

Chapter 4  
  
The bell on the door of the bar jangled.  
  
"Hey, Jordan," Max called out to his daughter.  
  
Jordan walked up to the bar to get the cup of coffee her dad was offering. Max's return to Boston was the one really bright spot in her life during the past three years. He had gone off to chase his own demons and returned home a stronger and more loving man. He had put the past behind him and urged his daughter to do the same. "Move on," he advised her. "Your mother would want you to."  
  
But like the others, Max had been alarmed at Jordan's appearance and demeanor. She grew thinner, almost gaunt, as time went on. The doctors had said she was fine, just working too hard and not eating three meals a day. Max knew she worked as many hours as Garrett would give her and sometimes beg for more. Then she came to work at The Pogue. He had told her repeatedly to go home, he and the crew could handle it, get some rest. "If I go home, Dad, I'll just think about it...and him," she would sadly reply, alluding to Woody.  
  
"How's it going, Jor?" Max asked, softly touching his daughter's face.  
  
"Fine, I guess. I pull a double tomorrow and it's the weekend, it could get interesting."  
  
"Okay, do me a favor? You get your tail out of here no later than 11 tonight, go home and get some rest. You'll need it."  
  
"You sound like Nigel. Why is everyone so worried about me?"  
  
"Nigel is a very wise man," Max replied. "And have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?"  
  
No, she hadn't. She just functioned, and today it seemed she barely did that.  
  
"Hand me my apron and let me get to work," was all she would answer Max, beginning to wipe down the tables and barstools. Between patrons and tourists, she stayed busy until 11 o'clock when Max, very unceremoniously, escorted his daughter through the back door and into her SUV.  
  
"Drive safely and sleep tight," he said as he waved her off.  
  
"The drive safe I can handle," Jordan said to herself as she maneuvered the big car home. "I haven't 'slept tight' in God knows when." She rubbed her hand down her tired face.  
  
Letting herself into her apartment, Jordan paused in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom. She looked at herself critically. Reluctantly, she had to agree with Nigel and her dad. She looked like hell. As soon as she could see her schedule clearly, she would think about taking a few days off. Maybe drive to the coast. Sleep a week. With a sigh, she put on her pajamas, set her alarm, and crawled into the bed, hoping a dreamless sleep would quickly come to her.  
  
Unfortunately it didn't. It was three years ago tonight that Woody had walked out of her life. She rolled over on her stomach.  
  
Three years. Other than one all-too-brief phone call the day after he left to let her know he was okay, there had been nothing from him. For the first six weeks, she had cursed him daily. Since then, she had simply longed to hear from him. An e-mail, a postcard, a call....anything. It hurt her to the quick to know he was through with her. The night he came back with her to the apartment, she was ready to tell him she loved him and wanted the type of relationship she knew he desired. But as soon as their lips met, all thoughts of talk left her mind. And then he walked out on her, making it clear he no longer loved or wanted her.  
  
"Was I that bad?" she whispered, her voice breaking. The tears she had been keeping at bay all day welled up in her eyes and began to slide down her cheeks. She buried her face in the pillows. She had tried so hard after he left, and she really didn't know why. He wasn't there to approve of anything, but that hadn't stopped her. From the time he walked out of her life, she decided she would be as perfect as she could, just in case he walked back in. Maybe the next time he would be happy with her, if there was a next time.  
  
So perfection, or at least the pursuit of it, became her goal. Her apartment was meticulously clean and perfectly decorated, her clothes meticulously pressed and coordinated, her work meticulously detailed and thorough. In short, everything was as flawless as she could make it. Everything but her heart.  
  
At the insistence of her friends, she had dated, tried to move on with her life, but couldn't. She couldn't give what was remaining of her broken heart to anyone. She was too afraid to trust another man with it. Every time she kissed someone, all she could remember was another pair of lips caressing her body and carrying her to heights she had never known existed. And another pair of strong arms that caught her and held her on her way back down to earth.  
  
Sighing, she rolled over to her side and looked out the window. For the millionth time that day, she wondered where Woody was and what he was doing. And if, somewhere, in his heart of hearts, he missed her or even thought of her at all. 


	5. Making hay while the sun shines

Chapter 5  
  
God it was hot.  
  
Woody wiped the sweat off his forehead with his shirt sleeve and glanced at the hayfield through his sunglasses. He had been in North Carolina for three years now and still couldn't get used to the weather. In the winter, ice storms would take out the electricity for days as power crews would struggle to get things back to normal. In the summer, the heat would blast the temperatures up into the 90's with the humidity levels running close behind. It would be so sticky outside that sweating didn't help you cool down. "How could Jake live here all his life?" Woody wondered. He got his answer soon enough.  
  
Linda pulled up in her pick up with coolers of bottled water. Woody watched the huge man with the cowboy hat climb down from the combine and grab his wife around the waist and plant a big kiss on her lips. "That's why he stays," Woody thought. "Linda." In many ways, Woody envied Jake. He had a beautiful wife, one with the domestic abilities of Martha Stewart and the looks of a runway model. He had a daughter and a son on the way. Jake had roots in North Carolina. Woody didn't.  
  
"Here you go," Linda called out to Woody, throwing him a bottle of water. "Catch!" She smiled at Woody, who pulled off his sunglasses and peered down at her. "Should a woman in your condition be out in this heat?" he asked. Linda was six months along.  
  
"I'm only pregnant, not terminally ill," Linda retorted. "Besides, I've done this before, don't worry."  
  
"Yeah, she's done this before," Jake replied, rolling his eyes at her. "Still don't make me worry no less." He came up behind his wife and put his arms around her expanding tummy, lowered his head and whispered something in her ear.  
  
Woody turned away and put his glasses back on. Scenes like this tugged at his heart. It made his mind go back to Boston and a pair of warm brown eyes that were filling with tears three years ago. Three years. If it had of worked out, that could have been him putting his arms around a pregnant Jordan, whispering in her ear. He often regretted walking out that way. Jordan had kept trying to stop him, but he wouldn't listen. He figured she was trying to talk him into staying. Maybe he should have heard her out. Sighing, he told himself he did the right thing. He was better off, she was better off. "She's probably moved on with her life to the point I'm just a footnote on the page," he thought.  
  
For a while he had discreetly kept tabs on her, not contacting her or any of her friends directly, but inquiring from a mutual acquaintance at the Boston Police Department. "She's working hard," was the answer he got. "She works at the morgue and works at The Pogue." After awhile his contact had let him know Max was back home. Woody had been truly glad for Jordan, he knew how much she missed her dad. Maybe that would give her some needed stability in her life. His contact also told him she was finally dating. After that, Woody had made no more inquiries. "The lady ME is getting on with her life," he had thought, with a pang of jealousy.  
  
"Bye," Linda said, waving at Woody, bringing him out of his thoughts. He and Jake finished the hayfield without much talk. Later that evening, after supper, he and Jake were sitting in the rocking chairs on the front porch while Linda was upstairs giving Katie her bath.  
  
"You want to talk about it now?" Jake asked.  
  
"Talk about what?" Woody asked, tipping the bottle of beer back.  
  
"Well, let's see. You were fine this morning until Linda came out to the field and you've hardly said a word since. It's been three years today since you came here and every time I ask you why you left Boston, you tip toe around the issue like it was a land mind. You've just had four beers and I've never known you to have over one a night the entire time you've been here. If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you're a man with something and someone on his mind."  
  
Woody glanced over at Jake and tried to give him a "go to hell" look and couldn't. He lowered his eyes. "I guess I have enough Miller in me to tell you the truth," he said to Jake. "It's not a happy story."  
  
Jake grunted and handed Woody another beer. He wasn't trying to get his friend drunk, but he was trying to get Woody to empty his soul. Whatever had happened in Boston was wearing him away. Physically, Woody looked healthy. The North Carolina sun had bronzed him and the hard labor on the farm had chiseled his body into a muscled, lean mass. But emotionally, the man was a wreck, even if Woody would never let on. Woody needed to talk this out.  
  
"I'm listening," Jake said. "I won't judge."  
  
Woody took a deep breath and began to tell Jake everything. He told Jake about Jordan and what happened.  
  
"So let me get this straight. You make love to this woman, then you walk out and leave her when she's begging you to stay?" Jake asked.  
  
The color rose in Woody's cheeks. "Yeah, I did."  
  
"You abandoned her like everyone else did because it was for her own good and your survival?"  
  
"You don't know Jordan, Jake. She was using me and everyone else to try to get answers. I got her out of more trouble than I can remember. It was hurting me professionally and emotionally. I couldn't deal with it anymore"  
  
"So you took the coward's way out and ran without confronting her with it?"  
  
"It wouldn't have changed a damn thing."  
  
"Do you know that for sure?"  
  
Woody raked a hand through his hair. "I don't think so. Jordan's Jordan. I don't believe she would change."  
  
"She might if she finally got some answers," Jake replied. "It seems to me that the lady deserves some and she's tried real hard by herself to get them. When that didn't work, she started asking her friends to help her. Okay, so maybe she got a little carried away, but from what you're telling me, she's pulled your ass out of a few rough places, too. And when she turned to you that night, believe me, it wasn't for answers about her mother, her father, her brother, or just to get on your last nerve. It may have been for comfort, it may have been for love, but it sure as hell wasn't for answers. And you screwed up. You abandoned her just like they did."  
  
Woody swallowed the rest of his fifth beer. "I did not abandon her. She pushed me away."  
  
"Does she know where you're at?'  
  
Woody thought about how careful he had been to cover his trail. As far as he knew, Jordan couldn't know. "No," he replied.  
  
"Then you damn well abandoned her. And believe me, she wasn't pushing you away that night. Jordan was trying the best way she knew how to get you to stay. Let me ask you another question. Do you still love her?"  
  
"I never said I loved her," Woody said, avoiding Jake's eyes.  
  
"You didn't answer the question, wuss. I know you loved her or you wouldn't have run in the first place and gave up everything in Boston you held dear. I asked you if you still love her."  
  
A pair of warm brown eyes swam in front of Woody's mind. He could see those tears and his heart shattered all over again. "Yeah, I do. Never stopped."  
  
"Then my friend, let me give you a piece of advice. If she's really not the girl for you, you won't get over her moping around here in North Carolina. The answers to your questions are not here. They're in Massachusetts. And you need to get back there to find them out. You won't be able to really get on with your life until you go back to Boston." 


	6. Old Cases Never Die

Chapter Six  
  
Another one. Jordan sighed and pushed a strand of her long, chestnut hair behind her ear. Another girl.  
  
It seemed that the summer rapist was at it again. He first surfaced about seven years ago, raping and killing young girls only in the summer. The BPD thought someone had finally caught the bastard under another charge because the assaults abruptly stopped some time ago. Everyone assumed he was locked up somewhere. "I guess we were wrong," thought Jordan, as she pulled the sheet up over the girl and pushed her back in the drawer.  
  
"What's it look like, Jordan?" asked Garrett. "I've got all of the Boston PD and the DA breathing down my neck."  
  
"It's him, Garret, he's back. It's his same MO, the same markings, the same everything," replied Jordan.  
  
"Great. Just what we need this summer. I'm going to call the chief and the DA. They're probably going to want to talk with us this afternoon. You busy?"  
  
"No, just some paperwork to wade through. I'll be in my office, just let me know when."  
  
"And Jordan, you're sure about this?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure. Unfortunately."  
  
Jordan made her way back to her office, to shut herself in with the mountain of paperwork that accompanied each body into the morgue. She was about half way through it when Garrett called her on her cell phone.  
  
"Can you be in Rene's office in 20 minutes?" he asked.  
  
"Sure thing. On my way."  
  
Garrett was at the meeting, along with Rene Walcott and the police chief. There was a detective there that was the first on the last two crime scenes and a uniform officer Jordan recognized from the last rape call.  
  
"Okay, we're 99 percent sure we have the Summer Rapist again," Rene said. "We've got to make sure we get him this time. He can't slip by us again."  
  
"What do we have?" asked the chief.  
  
Jordan and Garrett went over everything they had from the last two cases and the previous cases through the years.  
  
"Who handled the initial investigations?" asked the chief. "Why isn't that detective here?"  
  
"He's no longer on the force," replied the detective.  
  
"Who was it?"  
  
"Detective Woody Hoyt."  
  
"Get him back here," growled the chief. 


	7. Paging Detective Hoyt

Chapter 7  
  
The phone rang late that night at Jake's and Linda's farm. Jake answered it and then high-tailed it down the hall to Woody's room. Shoving the phone in Woody's limp hand, Jake shook him awake and barked "It's the Boston PD. Says it's urgent."  
  
Woody looked at the phone like it was ticking time bomb. Boston PD? What on earth? "Hello," he had said groggily into the phone.  
  
It was Detective Eddie Winslow. "Evening Woody," greeted Winslow. "You ready to come back to work?"  
  
"What the hell, Winslow?" Woody asked, sitting up in bed, his tired senses beginning to kick into gear.  
  
"I asked you if you were ready to come back to work."  
  
"How in the hell did you find me?"  
  
"Let's just say I have my sources, a few numbers, and a great computer friend in Nigel Townsend. Now are you ready to come back to work?"  
  
"I gave up law enforcement three years ago, if you don't remember."  
  
"Yeah, I remember someone said something about you being on extended vacation. You need to get your butt back to Boston."  
  
"Give me one good reason."  
  
Eddie paused, then replied. "The Summer Rapist."  
  
Woody had been snapped out his resentment of being called so early in the morning back to a job and a place he had no intention of returning to. Eddie filled him in on everything that had happened as Woody raced around to find paper to make notes on.  
  
"Anyway, the chief wants you back for this one. You were the lead detective on this case and you knew this perv and his MO better than anyone. What do I tell him?"  
  
"Tell him I'll be on the next plane out."  
  
"Oh, and one more thing you should know Hoyt. Jordan's on this case, too. She's done all the autopsies."  
  
Woody inhaled sharply. "OK," was the only reply Winslow got as Woody hung up.  
  
"Whatsa matter?" asked a sleepy Jake from the doorway.  
  
"You remember what you told me tonight about Boston?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Well, I'm headed back." 


	8. Hello Jordan

Chapter 8  
  
Garrett glanced over at Jordan. He and she both were up to their noses in the old files concerning the Summer Rapist. At her insistence, they were going over every tiny detail on every single case, just in case she missed something.  
  
He pulled off his glasses and looked closely at Jordan. "Jo, are you sure you can handle this?"  
  
"I've second-guessed myself before Garrett," Jordan replied, not taking her eyes off the case file in front of her.  
  
"That's not what I mean and you know it. Do you think you can handle seeing Woody again?"  
  
This time Jordan looked up and carefully ran her hands down the front of her red skirt. Then she tucked a stray curl behind her ear. She was nervous and Garrett knew it.  
  
"I'm a professional, Garret, and if that means dealing with people, including a certain detective, that I find difficult, so be it."  
  
"You know you don't have to see him. I can go."  
  
"Don't you think that the DA and the chief will find that a little strange, seeing as I did all the autopsies on the girls?"  
  
Garrett thought for a minute. "Yeah, you're right. Just be careful with yourself, Jordan."  
  
Jordan got up to leave Garrett's office. Grabbing her purse, she reassured him. "I'll be fine. Don't worry." She smiled at her boss.  
  
"Oh, and Jordan, get some rest before he gets here."  
  
Jordan raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
"You look like hell."  
  
"Thanks, Garrett, flattery will get you everywhere."  
  
Jordan made her way out to her SUV. Another night at The Pogue with her dad and the crowd. She sighed and laid her head on the steering wheel. "I need to stop," she thought. "I do need to stop working so hard all the time. But what will I do with my time?" She automatically drove to the bar.  
  
"You're not needed here tonight," Max told her with a grin.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You heard me. Go home. Go to sleep. Get some rest."  
  
"Dad, you're beginning to sound like a broken record."  
  
"Broken record my ass. Nigel came by and told me who was coming back into town this week and why. You need to be ready for him and this case. It's important Jordan."  
  
"I can work for a while."  
  
"No. Go home. Take a hot shower. Drink a glass of wine. Get some sleep." Max took her arm and led her to the door. "Now, Jordan."  
  
Her apartment was so quiet when she entered. Too quiet. She hadn't been home this early in.....well, she couldn't remember when. She was just about to go and take that shower when ....  
  
"Hello, Jordan." 


	9. Have things reallly changed?

Chapter 9  
  
Jordan slowly turned as she recognized that voice. Across the living room, standing in front of her window, was Woody. After all the days and nights of dreaming, hoping, there he was standing in her living room. Quickly pulling her wits around her, she dropped her purse and keys on the counter and faced him fully, leaning back against her bar and crossing her arms.  
  
"How'd you get in Farm Boy?" she asked, hoping her voice was nonchalant.  
  
"I have a key, remember?"  
  
"No, frankly, I don't remember. And I'll be wanting the key back before you leave."  
  
"I won't be leaving Boston for a while."

"I meant tonight."  
  
Woody walked over to her, for the first time catching her in full light. What had happened to her? When he let himself into the apartment, he was taken back by the redecorating she had done. Her apartment now looked like something out of a magazine. Everything coordinated and it was spotlessly clean. Her spices were even alphabetized. But what had happened to her?  
  
"Jordan, look at me," Woody said. If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn he sounded concerned. She faced him and he braced both hands on the counter on either side of her and peered closely at her face. "No, look at me," he commanded softly, putting his hand under her chin and lifting her face until he saw her eyes.  
  
And what he saw alarmed him. She looked like she hadn't slept in ages. There were soft, dark smudges underneath her eyes and she looked almost haggard. And thin. Not just small and delicately petite like he remembered. She had lost weight. Weight she didn't need to loose. But her eyes had changed the most. Instead of honey-brown eyes that glowed warmth and laughter, her eyes were sad and lack luster. They stared dully back at him. "Jordan, what's wrong with you?" Woody asked.  
  
Jordan abruptly pulled away from him. "Nothing's wrong. It's just been hectic at work and now all this stuff with the Summer Rapist."  
  
Woody wasn't giving up so easily. He followed her around the room. "You've lost weight because of the rapist?"  
  
"No, it's been hectic at work for a while now."  
  
Woody grabbed Jordan's arm and pulled her back around to face him. "What gives, Jo Jo?"  
  
Jordan winced at his pet name for her. No one ever had used it but him. At this point, she had had all her poor heart could handle. "Nothing. Nothing is wrong. It's been three years Woody. I've changed. You've changed."  
  
"Is that it? Is that all there is to it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then here." Woody slapped the key to her apartment in her hand. He stormed out of the apartment and slammed the door. Jordan walked to the door to see if once again she could hear his retreating footsteps. She heard nothing. She slumped to the floor, her back against the door and sobbed. He was back and her heart just couldn't take it. It was breaking all over again.


	10. Dr Nigel

Chapter 10  
  
Woody stopped when he heard Jordan crying on the other side of the door. "Damn," he swore to himself. "Damn, damn, damn. That went really well Hoyt, really well. Let's see how much we can hurt her this time." He turned and nearly knocked on the door, when something stopped him. He could still hear Jordan crying, but now he wondered why. She said she had changed and so had he. But how much? He reached out and stroked the door. "I'll be back, Jo," he said to himself, "but first I've got to find out a few things."  
  
His next stop was Nigel's apartment. Nigel wasn't there. So Woody went to the morgue. He found Dr. Townsend doing that voodoo he does so well.....working with the computer programs.  
  
"Helloooo Woody," said the lanky doctor. "Nice to see you again, even if it's under these conditions." Woody wasn't sure if Nigel was referring to Jordan or the Summer Rapist.  
  
"Spill it Nige, what do you know?"  
  
"Well, the MO's the same, and so are the markings, but we're having a hard time matching the DNA profile. You see...."  
  
"Not the case, Dr. Townsend, the girl. What's wrong with Jordan?" Woody said, interrupting Nigel's lecture.  
  
"Oh, well that's bloody easy to answer," said Nigel with a smile. "You are."  
  
Woody stared at him blankly. "You want to give me a little more on that?"  
  
"For the last three years, while you have been off doing whatever it was you were doing on that farm in North Carolina, our girl has been here, trying to cope the best way she knew how. No mum, no dad, no Woody. So she threw herself into her work. She hasn't missed a day in three years, works every holiday, and never takes vacation. She's now the AME. She also works several nights a week at The Pogue. Her work is flawless, as is her dress, her cooking, and her apartment. She has become the model of responsibility and maturity. In short, she has become as near as perfect as she can get.  
  
"But when you go after one goal, you loose other things in the pursuit. Jordan has given up a lot. She doesn't get enough sleep, you have to just about nail her feet to the floor to get her to slow down and eat, and she never goes out. While we have a very professional and nearly perfect Jordan in our midst now, the fun-loving, mischievous Jordan that you fell in love with is long gone, Woody, my friend."  
  
Woody continued to stare at Nigel. "And you're saying I'm responsible for this?"  
  
"The very person who is responsible."  
  
"And you know this for sure?"  
  
"Yes," said the doctor, nodding.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"It's simple, actually. Don't see why you can't see it. After you walked out on her that night, for whatever reason it was, Jordan collapsed. For a while she cursed you, but since then she has literally lived for the minute she would see you again."  
  
"But she just kicked me out of her apartment..." Woody began.  
  
Nigel held up a hand. "Hold on a minute. While waiting for you to possibly return to her life, she decided somewhere along the way that you wanted perfection. So that is the audience she played to. She kicked you out, eh?"  
  
Woody nodded.  
  
"What was the first thing you said to the lady?"  
  
"I don't remember exactly. She looked so tired and worn out....and thin. That's what I talked to her about because I was concerned."  
  
"Then that's the reason she kicked you out. She thinks she still isn't good enough for you. You were still finding flaws."  
  
Woody digested this information for a few minutes. "What do I do now?" he asked Nigel.  
  
"Sweet Nancy, I have no idea," replied Nigel, turning back to the computer. "But I'd let the lady lead the next dance." 


	11. Working together again

Chapter 11  
  
Jordan had prepared herself for today. She had gone over her notes and all the files. But more than that, she had worked hard to get herself ready emotionally.  
  
She had not seen Woody in two days. She had no idea where he was in Boston, but knew he was still there. He had been by The Pogue to see her dad, but not while she was working. He hadn't come to the morgue or her apartment again. But today the entire task force on the Summer Rapist was meeting and that included Woody.  
  
She had felt a shock go through her system when she began to examine the old case files that had his handwriting on them. Unlike many separated lovers, Jordan had nothing to remember Woody by – no old sweatshirt or t- shirt, no sweat pants, no jacket. Just her memories. His handwriting had been the first tangible thing she had seen from Woody in three years. And she had been more shocked when she finally saw him than she could have imagined. He was muscular and lean. The tan he had gotten from working outdoors made his blue eyes seem even bluer. His hair had bleached out from the sun. While she felt the years had turned her into a haggard, older woman, they had sculpted him into someone who looked like they could be a model for GQ. No wonder he had fled her apartment earlier this week, she thought bitterly.  
  
So today, she dressed in full "Jordan Armor." Her hair was put up with small wisps escaping around her ears and on the back of her neck. She wore her red business suit with the white lacey blouse, black pumps and sheer, black hose. She examined herself in the mirror before she left her apartment. Careful make up, discreet jewelry. She sighed. She looked every inch a professional medical examiner, nothing like the young woman that Woody left three years ago.  
  
Woody paced the floor of his BPD office. His old supervisor had given him an office while the task force was meeting and joked about making it permanent if Woody wanted to come back. He hadn't heard from Jordan and was taking Nigel's advice. But it was hard letting this lady lead the next dance if he wasn't sure what steps she was taking.  
  
"Time to go Woodrow," said Eddie Winslow, breezing by Woody's open door. "Task force meets in five."  
  
Woody took his seat with the other officers and waited while Rene Walcott, Garret, and finally Jordan entered the room. Jordan could feel his eyes sweep over her as she took her seat next to Garrett and across from him. Warily, she glanced up at him as he helped her put her files and briefcase down. "Sweet Jesus," she thought "He looks good enough to eat." The blue suit he had on was the same color of his eyes and the white shirt just made him look that much more tanned. "And damn it, he still wears the same cologne." She grimaced and hoped she could get through the meeting without physically melting at the man's feet.  
  
Rene and the chief opened the meeting by discussing the old cases. Jordan quickly found her attention pulled back to the victims and the new information from the officers. Maps were produced and sites were listed that could possibly be new attack areas. Jordan and Garrett gave what DNA and forensic evidence they had. With the promise from the chief for more man power in the areas that could be potential attack spots, the meeting was over. Jordan sighed with relief. She had given intelligent answers and hadn't collapsed in front of Woody. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could hide out in Garrett's office the rest of the day, tell Emmie to hold all of her calls, and curl up in the fetal position and cry the afternoon away until she felt better.  
  
Luck wasn't going to run her way.  
  
"Let me walk you back to your office, Jordan," said Woody, taking the files and briefcase out of her hand.  
  
Jordan tried to protest, but it was too little, too late. He had everything but her purse and was steering her down the hall to the elevators with his free arm. Jordan flashed a look at Garrett, who was too busy talking to Rene to notice Jordan's discomfort. He held her elbow until they got in the elevator. When the door closed, Jordan knew she should move away, but the smell of his cologne and the touch of his hand were too much. She fought the urge to turn and simply bury her face in his arms. Instead Woody moved his hand away from her arm and faced her.  
  
"Nice suit," he said.  
  
"Thank you," Jordan replied, not meeting his eyes, but continuing to look at the elevator door in front of her.  
  
"I didn't think you owned one before." He frowned, trying to remember.  
  
"A lot changes in three years, Woody. Including wardrobe."  
  
Just as the doors began to open, Woody leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Yeah, but do you still wear pink lace underwear?"  
  
Jordan felt her face growing warm as Woody took her arm again and escorted her across the street and into the morgue. He deposited her briefcase and files on her desk. "Well do you?" he asked again. Jordan was just about to tell him it was none of his damn business and maybe she wasn't wearing any underwear, when Bug popped his head her office.  
  
"Sorry to interrupt this little Kodak moment," he said, "but you're needed in autopsy B, Jordan."  
  
"Be there in just a minute, Bug."  
  
"Look, Woody, I know we have to work on this task force together," Jordan began.  
  
"Have dinner with me."  
  
"What?"  
  
Woody slowly ran his fingers down Jordan's arm. "You heard me, have dinner with me. Call me when you're through and we'll have dinner."  
  
"Um, we'll see. This may take a while."  
  
"Then I'll call you," Woody replied, turning and leaving the morgue.  
  
And he did. He called at four, and Lily told him Jordan was finished with Autopsy B, but they had someone else come in and now she was in Autopsy A.  
  
So he called at six. He didn't get Lily, but got the voice mail. Slightly miffed because he thought Jordan may be stalling him, he strode over to the morgue. She wasn't stalling.  
  
Jordan was back in Autopsy B with two victims. Woody caught Nigel coming out to run tox screens.  
  
"Is it always this bad with her?" he jerked his thumb towards the autopsy window.  
  
"I told you mate, she's a workaholic now. And Garrett lets her be. But she's bloody working herself in the ground."  
  
Woody looked at the strained look on Jordan's face, apparent through the face shield.  
  
"She averages 12 autopsies a week now, you know," said Nigel.  
  
"She's killing herself."  
  
"Well, perfectionists are known for that. Gee, wouldn't it be nice if someone let her know it was okay to just be Jordan once in a while," Nigel said, giving Woody a very pointed look. 


	12. Kidnapping Jordan

Chapter 12  
  
Jordan wearily pulled off her scrubs and put back on her business suit, not bothering to button the blouse quite all the way up. She didn't have the heart to put on the high heels yet. She'd wait until she was ready to walk out the door and slip them on. "Damn," she thought as she glanced at her watch. It showed 10:28. "I bet Woody thinks I did this on purpose."  
  
She winced at what his reaction might be. But she was too tired to really care. If he didn't believe her, he could read the morgue reports tomorrow. All she really wanted now was a hot shower and bed. Moving slowly, she pushed the double doors of the crypt open with her behind and walked backwards out of them...and right into Woody.  
  
"Woody..." she began, her voice faltering. Seeing him again was torment. She wasn't sure if he believed she had been working or not. After all, her scrubs were back in the ladies' locker room.  
  
"Hi," he said softly. "Heard you had a long day."  
  
"Yeah," Jordan began, starting to explain.  
  
Woody simply took her suit coat out of her arms and her shoes out of her hand and began to escort her to the door.  
  
"I don't think I'm up to dinner right now," Jordan warned.  
  
"I know. I'm not taking you to dinner, I'm taking you somewhere you can get some rest." And with that he walked her through the morgue's exit and into his car, without letting her put her shoes on.  
  
Jordan assumed he was taking her back to her apartment. She closed her eyes as he drove through town and was nearly asleep when he said "Here we are."  
  
This was not Pearle Street. It was a high rise Boston hotel. "What are we doing here?" she turned and asked Woody, a bewildered look on her face.  
  
"Taking somewhere you can get some rest."  
  
"But...."  
  
"No 'buts' Jordan," Woody said, climbing out of his car and going around to open her car door. "No 'ifs' and 'ands', either." He handed her shoes and allowed her to put those back on before he led her through the hotel lobby and into the elevators.  
  
"Where are we going?" she asked again.  
  
Woody didn't reply. He simply pushed the button for the seventh floor and waited for the doors to open again. Then he escorted Jordan down the hall and inserted a door card. The doors opened and Woody gently pushed Jordan into the room.  
  
It was an immaculate hotel suite overlooking downtown Boston. Jordan could see the lights of the city. Slowly she walked over to the windows and was taking in the sight while Woody was giving someone directions over the house phone. When he was finished, she turned to him.  
  
"Where are we, Woody?"  
  
"This is where I'm staying while I'm in Boston. And tonight you're going to stay here, too." He reached out and plucked her cell phone from its holder on her hip and took the battery out of the back. He pocketed the battery and gave her back her phone.  
  
"What the hell is going on?" Jordan was almost fuming. "Give that back."  
  
"Nope. Not until Monday. You are officially off duty. I've talked to Macy and you're covered at the morgue. Your dad knows where you are and is fine with it. Everyone said you need to get some rest. The suite has an extra bedroom and no one knows you're here. You need to rest."  
  
"But I don't have any of my things," she protested.  
  
"Got that covered, too. Lily went by your apartment for me and got some of your stuff. It's all in the spare bedroom. You're set for the weekend."  
  
"Woody, I can't do this."  
  
Woody walked over to her and put his arms on either side of her, effectively trapping her between the windows and himself. "Can't or won't, Jordan? You're working too hard, you're not eating right, and a little English birdie told me he thought I could be part of the reason. I may not be able to make everything right tonight, but easing my conscious by allowing you to get some rest is going to go a long way in helping."  
  
Jordan could feel Woody's eyes roaming over her, lingering where she had stopped buttoning her blouse, then continuing back up to look her in the eyes. "Go get ready for bed, Jo. I'll be in in a minute to tuck you in and make sure you stay there." He turned her and gave her a push towards the bedroom.  
  
Jordan showered and opened the bag that Lily packed, hoping her nondescript sleep pants and old t-shirt was packed. She was still fuming about being "kidnapped" by Woody and even more ticked off that Macy, Lily, and her dad had been in on it. No such luck on the sleep pants. Lily had packed a short, silky sleep shirt. Still pissed, Jordan jerked it on and combed her hair. She opened the bathroom door to find her sheets turned down and a glass of wine by the bed. She sighed. "Damn. He's making it difficult to be angry at him." A sly thought flickered through her head. She wondered if she was up to it, but it would be worth it to get back at Woody. Throwing off her bathrobe, she sat down in the middle of the bed and sipped the wine. Let him find her in her lingerie. Let's see how he reacts to that.  
  
A soft tap came at the door. "Ready to be tucked in?" Woody asked.  
  
"Sure thing, come on in."  
  
This time it was Woody's turn to be surprised. There was Jordan in the middle of the bed in this ...this.... lingerie. Her long legs were stretched out in front of her and the sleep shirt barely stopped below her hips. He'd bet his bottom dollar that she had nothing on underneath it, either. He swallowed hard. "Uh, maybe this isn't a good idea," he mumbled.  
  
"Hold it right there, Farm Boy. You promised to tuck me in. You going to run out on me again?"  
  
Woody lowered his eyes to the floor. "Touche'," he thought. "Okay, Jordan, get under the covers and I'll tuck you in," he said, thinking that if she was at least covered by the sheets he could think logically and behave rationally. That was something he needed to do very badly because right now the only thing he could think of was crawling under those sheets with her.  
  
What he wasn't prepared for was the production she put on getting under the covers. She slowly slid off the bed, letting the sleep shirt scrunch up around her bottom, not really showing anything, but promising a lot. Just as slowly, she pulled the covers back and climbed in the bed, slowly, one long leg at a time. From under her lashes, she noticed watched Woody take in every move and his growing discomfort with a certain part of his anatomy. Grinning to herself, she realized who was really in control of this situation. Woody had just lost a round to her. "Okay, Woody," she said when she was safely under the covers.  
  
Woody came over and bent to tuck the covers around her, not prepared for the way her scent would wreathe around him and snag his senses. Her hair was spread out on the pillow and she was waiting for him to tell her good night. He momentarily forgot everything as he lost himself in her eyes again. "Good night, Woody," Jordan said.  
  
Momentarily jarred from his train of thought, Woody responded. "Night." He brushed her curls from her eyes and rose to leave. He paused at the door. "You're still going to be here in the morning, aren't you?"  
  
"I gave up running away three years ago, Woody."  
  
Woody stumbled back to his bedroom, still having problems with his southern parts. He cursed himself for coming up with this idea, but he honestly wanted Jordan to get some rest. He had assumed that once she realized she was relieved of all responsibility this weekend, she would obediently get into bed and sleep the rest of the weekend away. Despite the fact that she had obviously changed during his absence, some things never change, he thought wryly. He had wrongly assumed that while he was gone, Jordan had become more reasonable. He realized now that she was getting back some of her own revenge of what he had done to her.  
  
He flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, still thinking of Jordan. Nigel had said to let her lead this dance, and he was still trying to figure out where she was going with it. He knew where he wanted it to go. Despite the fact that for three years, he had tried to get her out of his system, he couldn't. All the farm work, all the sweat, all the heat couldn't erase her from his mind or heart. And seeing her now just brought that fact back more sharply into focus. He had been crazy to leave her this long and thank the powers that be that she hadn't found someone else in his absence. If he couldn't do anything else right in his life, he was going to win her and keep her this time. Just as soon as he got her rested and feeling better. Woody sighed and looked at the clock. Two a.m. He wondered if Jordan was having trouble sleeping, too. Without thinking twice, he got up and padded across the living area of the suite to her bedroom and peeked in. She was on her side, facing the door, curled up and clutching a pillow – sound asleep. Woody chuckled softly to himself. "At least one of us is resting," he thought. 


	13. Advice for the lovelorn from Dr Nigel

Chapter 13  
  
"Rise and shine, sleepy head," Woody said, gently shaking a still snoozing Jordan. "It's almost one o'clock."  
  
Jordan sat straight up in bed, for a moment forgetting where she was. She obviously looked confused because Woody reached out and softly stroked her face. "Hey, don't be scared. You're here with me, getting some rest, remember?"  
  
Vaguely Jordan did, the memory of her little lingerie show lingering in the corners of her mind. He seemed to have recovered, but she hadn't. The smell of his cologne had stayed in her room, causing her to dream about him all night. And she thought that was all it was – a mere dream until she felt him shake her awake.  
  
"Ummmm, one o'clock, as in p.m.?" she asked.  
  
"Yep."  
  
"What day is it?"  
  
"It's Saturday," Woody replied.  
  
"Good, I feel like I've slept so hard that I've missed some days."  
  
Woody smiled. That's exactly what he had wanted her to say, that she had rested well. "No, no days missed, just most of the morning."  
  
"You should have woke me up sooner."  
  
Woody let his eyes take in the sight of a still-sleepy Jordan in that silky night shirt. Her hair was a tangle, but at least the dark smudges under her eyes looked better. "Nah, it was too much fun watching you sleep."  
  
Jordan felt her cheeks redden. "You watched me sleep? You perv."  
  
Woody grinned. This was going better than he expected. "Not long, just the last few minutes. I thought we may grab some breakfast, or rather you can grab some breakfast and I'll grab some lunch, and take a walk."  
  
Jordan considered her options. She normally didn't eat breakfast, but that was not the main problem. She was close to letting this man back into her life and her heart, and God, if the truth be known, her bed. And she couldn't. She just couldn't. She had carefully re-crafted herself when he walked out and was surviving. If he walked out again on her after the Task Force was completed, she didn't think she would recover this time.  
  
Abruptly Jordan swung her legs over the bed and away from him. "I don't eat breakfast, she coldly announced. "I'm going to take a shower." And with that she walked into the bathroom, leaving Woody sitting on the side of the bed wondering what the hell had just happened.  
  
It was an awkward afternoon. Woody did finally get Jordan to eat something and then urged her to get some more rest. He was determined, despite of anything that happened, that Jordan get some sleep this weekend. She finally caved in to his nagging and went back to bed around five. To his relief, she sank back into a deep sleep.  
  
Raking his fingers through his hair, he thought about last night and this morning. For a while it seemed Jordan was coming around. But at the last minute, she cut him off and pushed him away. He almost laughed out loud. That part seemed like old times. Maybe she hadn't changed that much. "Here we are back on the chase again," thought Woody. "Me pursuing Jordan and her backing up and pushing me away." Then he remembered her eyes. Last night, when she was on the bed in that night shirt, that was the old Jordan. The warm, brown eyes laughing at him, teasing him. She had known exactly what she was doing. But this morning, the eyes were sad, almost lost looking. He saw the same eyes when he picked her up from the morgue. And when they were meeting with the Task Force, her eyes were soft and almost confused as he helped her with her things. He sighed. There was only one man that really understood what was going on, and that wasn't him. Softly he got up from his chair and tiptoed to Jordan's room. She was still sound asleep, having taken her jeans off and sleeping only in her shirt. He closed her door and picked up his cell phone, dialing a number he had by now committed to heart.  
  
"Nigel, can you meet me for a drink?"  
  
Thirty minutes later, Nigel and Woody were sitting at the bar of the hotel. "Where's Jordan?" Nigel had asked.  
  
"She's up stairs asleep." Woody replied.  
  
"Oh, resting up for the activities this evening?" Nigel said with a knowing look.  
  
Woody paused for two beats. "No, there are no activities planned for this evening."  
  
"What's the matter, luv? Lost that loving feeling?"  
  
Woody raked his hand through his hair. "I haven't, Nige, I love her more than ever, but she keeps pushing me away. Why? You said she lived for the moment I'd come back to Boston. Well, here I am. What's wrong?"  
  
"Did you happen to tell her you loved her before you left to go to North Carolina?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Did you love her then?"  
  
Woody sighed. This felt like his conversation with Jake all over again.  
  
"Yes, but I didn't tell her because, well because, I was scared she didn't love me back. I couldn't handle it."  
  
"Okay, let's look at this thing from Jordan's perspective. She begins to trust you. She lets you in her bed. She wants you to stay and you leave. For three years, other than one very brief phone call, she hears nothing from you. Then you come back to Boston, all concerned about her, whisk her away to a motel, under the pretext of her getting some rest, and then are surprised when she gives you a cold one? The lady has no clue what's going on."  
  
"But you told me to let her lead the next dance."  
  
"And so she is. It's the tango."  
  
Woody gave Nigel one of his "what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about" looks.  
  
Nigel continued. "The tango is a form of dance where the boy chases the girl. Sometimes he catches her and sometimes he doesn't. But they have to match moves in order for the dance to be successful – and sensual.  
  
"You see, mate, I really think Jordan wants you to catch her and she was truly tired of running when you left. That night at her apartment, she was wanted to tell you she was ready for the kind of relationship you wanted and that she loved you. You just never gave her a chance. Poof, you were gone. And being the type of person she is, she wouldn't try to twist your arm to get you to come back, so she didn't look for you. I did for a while, because I wasn't sure if I would need to get in touch with you if the pregnancy test came back positive."  
  
Woody blanched. He hadn't thought of that. "Did it?"  
  
"No, and she was kind of sorry it didn't. It would have given her a part of you to live with. So she continued on with her life. Part of her moved forward, and part of her didn't. She somewhere came to the conclusion that the reason you rejected her was ..."  
  
"I didn't reject her," Woody began...  
  
"Hold on, let me finish. She thought the reason you left was because you were disgusted with her, that she was a true bad seed, in every way," Nigel had emphasized "every," letting Woody catch his meaning. "So thus, the goal of perfection. That's where she moved forward, if you can call it an improvement. Personally, I miss the old Jordan.  
  
"The part that didn't move forward was her heart. It's still back in that apartment, the same place it was three years ago, frozen in time. She's gone out with other men, but those dates never when anywhere. She told me that every time another man touched her, two things happened. First, she wondered when she would disgust them too, and second, she kept seeing your face, and not theirs. She didn't think it was fair to anyone else, so gradually she stopped seeing anyone and became the workaholic Jordan you saw yesterday. She's killing herself emotionally and physically, but it's the only way she knows how to deal with the problem.," Nigel concluded, taking a big drink of scotch.  
  
Woody played with the cocktail napkin the waitress brought with their drinks. "How do you suggest I change things?"  
  
"Well, first of all with this tango, you're going to have to match her moves. If she pushes you away, you have to push forward. If she tells you to leave, you have to stay. If she runs, you have to chase her. Get my drift?"  
  
Woody nodded.  
  
"And second, you're going to have to show her that you love her and she doesn't disgust you in anyway. You've got to make her see that the reason you left was because she was breaking your heart and you couldn't take it anymore, not that she wasn't perfect."  
  
Woody nodded again as Nigel got up to leave. "Thanks, man," he told Nigel as he shook the man's hand.  
  
"Don't thank me yet. And good luck. The second part may be the hardest thing to do." 


	14. I'll catch you on your way back down

Chapter 14  
  
Jordan woke up with a jerk, still trying to focus in on where she was at. She slid her jeans on and walked into the living room, but no Woody. He had told her that when she woke up, they would go have dinner at the hotel's restaurant. Reluctantly, she began to get ready, still wondering where he was at. How Lily knew to pack her good black dress, she would never know, but silently thanked her friend. Looking at herself in the mirror, no one could fault her appearance. Hair up, make up perfect, dress hugging her in all the right places. At least she would look good tonight on the outside, even if she was a wreck on the inside.  
  
Jordan nervously began to pace and checked her watch – 8:30. Then nine o'clock came, and still no Woody. She began to think the unthinkable. Finally, when she could stand it no more, she crossed the living room and walked into his bedroom. Looking around, she gave a small sigh of relief. His things were still there. He hadn't walked out her again.  
  
The bedroom door closed with a click.  
  
Jordan jumped at the sound. Turning around, there was Woody leaning against the shut door.  
  
"What's the matter, Jordan, checking up on me?"  
  
"No, I was just wondering where you at...you know, dinner..." her voice trailed off, as Woody walked over, and stood in front of her with his hands on his hips.  
  
"No, you were scared I ran out on you again, weren't you?" he accused.  
  
Jordan's silence spoke louder than any words.  
  
Woody sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I was having a drink with a friend at the bar. I lost track of the time. I'm sorry."  
  
"That's okay. I shouldn't have come in here." She turned to leave.  
  
"Jordan...." Woody reached out to grab her arm, but she was too quick.  
  
"I'll leave and let you get dressed." Jordan turned and quickly left the room.  
  
"You know, I don't think you've changed all that much, Jordan," Woody said as he followed her into the living room. "You're still running like hell because you're afraid to face the truth."  
  
Jordan stopped in her tracks and swung around to face Woody. "Not afraid the face the truth?" she stormed back over to Woody. "I was not the one who ran and hid out for three years without a damn word to anybody. I was not the one who rejected you. You rejected me. That's what the truth is and I faced it a long time ago, Woodrow Hoyt. I dealt with it. I coped. I survived. While you were away, I faced the fact that no matter what I did, it wasn't good enough. If it had been, you would have stayed. But so what? It doesn't matter, because in a few weeks, when the Task Force is over and this case is solved, your butt will be back on a plane to North Carolina where you and Old MacDonald can live happily ever after back on the farm."  
  
"Jordan, it wasn't like that..." began Woody.  
  
"Well, then how in the hell was it?" Jordan said, her voice dropping lower and her eyes glaring angrily at Woody. "Tell me how it really was Farm Boy."  
  
"I left because you kept pushing me away, just like you are now. I couldn't take it anymore, loving you and not being able to show it to you like I wanted to."  
  
"So you chose to leave _after_ making love to me? Do you have any idea how that made me feel?"  
  
Woody lowered his head. "I'm sorry. I hadn't planned on sleeping with you that night. Things just ....happened. I had already booked my plane for the next day weeks before that."  
  
"Yeah, I know. And you chose not to tell me a thing about it."  
  
If possible, Woody's head lowered even more. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. But at the time it was the matter of _my_ survival with you. Do you know what it's like to love somebody and not have that love returned? It was tearing me up inside."  
  
This time Jordan looked at Woody closely. Without a word, she reached out and lifted his chin until he was looking her in the eyes. He was telling the truth, and she saw it.  
  
"Oh my God. I'm sorry Woody, I am so sorry. I should have..." her voice caught and she looked away quickly, but Woody saw the tears. Ruthlessly, he pulled her in his arms and just held her and let her cry for what seemed like eternity. When she finally stopped, he said, "We both should have talked this out a long time ago." He lifted her face and planted a gentle kiss on her lips. "Come here."  
  
He sat down on the couch and drew her down on his lap. "Jordan, I never stopped loving you. I tried to get you out of my system, tried to forget, but it didn't work. When the opportunity came to come back to Boston, I jumped at it, not because of the police work, but because it might give me the chance to be with you again and find out some answers."  
  
"What have you found out?"  
  
Woody sighed. She wasn't going to make this easy. "I found out that first of all, I still love you. And I think you love me. And that you were going to probably tell me that the night I left, only I didn't give you a chance.  
  
"And I found out that when I left, I destroyed not only a fragile relationship, but a part of you I desperately want to get back. I didn't reject you that night. I was only trying to survive. But you thought I had rejected you because you weren't the right girl for me. But where in the hell did you get the idea that I wanted someone perfect?"  
  
Jordan was toying with Woody's tie. "I don't know. Somewhere in my screwed up mind I thought that if I was better, you would want me. You'd come back and you would want to be with me."  
  
"So you drove yourself hard?"  
  
"Yeah, pretty much."  
  
Woody looked down at her face. The brown eyes were not quite so sad or confused. He brushed his fingertips down the side of her face and ran the pad of his thumb across her lips, parting them in the process. Slowly, he lowered his head and began to gently kiss her, deepening the kiss as he felt her respond. Reluctantly he pulled away after a few minutes and looked her in the eyes. "Stop."  
  
Jordan looked confused. "Stop?" she asked.  
  
"Stop working so hard. Stop trying to be so perfect. Just be Jordan – the girl I knew and the woman I love."  
  
"I don't know if I remember how."  
  
"Then relax and let me show you." Woody began to kiss her again, deepening a little more with each one. Jordan moaned when his tongue rubbed against hers. Woody slowly slid his hand down her side to the hem of her dress and let his hand slowly slide back up her leg, over her calf and knee to her thigh. Jordan moaned again.  
  
"Do you still want to do dinner?" he asked against her lips.  
  
"Dinner?" asked Jordan, trying to capture his mouth. "I never eat dinner."  
  
Woody chuckled and lifted her in his arms. Carrying her to his bedroom, he laid her down on the bed and leaned over her, amused that she was busying herself with the buttons of his shirt. This was the old Jordan. Slowly he reached around and slid the zipper down her on her dress and drew it off her arms. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. She pushed his shirt away and then urged him out of his t-shirt. He slid the dress the rest of the way off her body. Suddenly, Woody laughed again. "I don't see what is so funny," Jordan said, wiggling under the touch of his hands.

"You do still wear pink lacey underwear."  
  
"Woody!" She laughed against his lips for a moment, but then began to moan again as his touch began to work its magic on her again. Slowly, slowly he took her to heights that she thought she'd never reach again, and when he finally entered her, he felt her contract and tremble against him.  
  
"Hold me," she pleaded.  
  
"I'm right here, sweetheart, I've got you." Woody heard her sigh softly and reach up to run her fingers through his hair.  
  
"I never thought I'd see you again," she confessed, looking at him with solemn brown eyes. "I thought I had really ruined it."  
  
"No, you didn't ruin anything. I left too soon, you waited too long...it was a lot of things. But we're here now. And we're together and things are going to work out. And I'm ready to have another go at this if you are," Woody said, wagging his eyebrows at her, letting Jordan know that he wasn't just talking about the relationship. She laughed and rubbed her body against his, causing his breath to catch sharply in his throat.  
  
"On one condition, Farm Boy."  
  
"What's that?" Woody inquired as he nuzzled her throat.  
  
"You're always there to catch me on my way back down."  
  
"That's a promise," Woody vowed as he looked down into her laughing brown eyes.


End file.
